Always Pure But Never Worthy
by AngelicVampiress
Summary: She knows she isn't worthy                  Spoilers will occur
1. Pure

Author: The Angelic Vampire (vampiricmcd)

Title: Always pure but never worthy

Rating: PG

Word count: 250

Summary: She knows that she is not worthy

She knows that she is not worthy. She will never be worthy of him. But that doesn't stop her from conquering every last scrap of attention she can wrangle from him. It is the nature of the beast after all. Pain, violence, love and blood. She upholds her family's credo of "Toujours pur" to such extremes that she is willing to squander away years of her life in filth and hardship at Azkaban prison.

But Bellatrix knows, yes she knows, that it will never ever be enough. He will come for her, for them, only because he will have need of them and not want. But it will have to do. Even if she has never settled in her entire life, she settles for this. Her laugh echoes through the stone cold halls and emptiness that surround her above and beyond the leeching Dementors closing in on her. She will remember her goals. And insane she may become, may already be, but she will remember her Lord until she is free. She will survive and hold on, because she is not worthy and will never be. And the memory of that is neither happy nor filled with hope, save for the knowledge that it will help her through her imprisonment – until she can try to be worthy of him once again and ultimately fail.

There has always been a hint of Seer blood in the Black lineage. She knows that in the end he will come. She will be waiting.


	2. Emotions

Title: Emotions

Series: Always Pure But Never Worthy

Author: The Angelic Vampire

Rating: PG-13

Summary: _She has never been one for emotions_

Spoilers: Yes, there's mention of something that was revealed in HP and the Deathly Hallows.

Word count: 415

Disclaimer: Last time I checked I didn't write Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, or the six before that. In plain English that means sadly I am not J.K. Rowling. Thus I do not own the Harry Potter universe, no matter how much I'd like to.

* * *

It tries to claw its way out of her, but she never lets it. She has never been one for emotions and won't let this get to her – she won't let it hurt her. She is strong, capable and ambitious. She is the quintessential Slytherin and is pure to her beliefs and the ones of her lineage.

It matters not that she is neither liked nor loved the most. It does not matter that Sirius – Black, power, grinning, family, traitor, love – abandons her to uphold the family honour. It is now scorched to her flesh and the agony that came with it, she treasures. It is the physical emergence of what might have once crippled her. It has been bled and burned out now and visible only to those she wants to see.

It matters little that Andromeda – sister, confidant, Black, regal, knowledge, muggle-lover, blood traitor – has stabbed her in the back and leaves her behind. She carefully ignores the letters sent to her, pretends to have burned them even when she keeps them in plain sight. If you know where to look.

It does not bother her that Narcissa – pretty, cunning, sister, Black, her charge, thief – marries the one she had set her sights on. She ignores the ink on her new marriage contract, it flows like sacrificial wine and pure blood from her fingertips to the Lestrange family tree. What Cissa wants, Cissa always gets.

And neither does burying Regulus – fool, Black, brave brave boy, stupid, naïve, silly little child – in silence hurt at all. A wet corpse or what is left of it, and she will never ever tell a soul, burned just easily as anything else did – she's always been good with fire.

And if she can ignore it all through sheer force of will, isn't she the best of them all? If her ambition isn't clouded by what they have wrought for her, isn't she superior to any of them? And what if her blood should flow just as red and easily as theirs? Isn't she the strongest and most cunning of them all? And what if it remains all bottled up inside? Isn't that how it is supposed to be done when it is done right? It tries to claw its way out of her, but she won't let it – won't permit it by Morgana! And yes, that makes her different from them. Even i they /i know that much, if nothing else.

No, Bellatrix has never been one for emotions.

* * *

AN: I hope you liked it. 


	3. Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

Title: Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Series: Always Pure But Never Worthy

Author: The Angelic Vampire

Rating: PG-13

Summary: _She will never admit to mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa_.

Warnings: Torture, death and revenge ahoy!

Spoilers: Yes, HP7 is mentioned though the hint is slight and some might pick up on it while others don't.

Disclaimer: I don't own the HP universe.

Word count: 725

* * *

.

She doesn't regret it, not one bit. She knows she'll never will. The screams were beautiful and they served a purpose. It was meant to be, she knows. It goes round and round and one day it will come back to visit her. Perhaps it will end it all as well, though somehow she doubts that. She is not meant for him, no matter how much he would want it. No matter how much she thinks it would be fitting.

_An adversary with red strands of grief, spells spoken in anger and she would remain victorious – always crowing, crowing, crowing till the ravens flocked down upon her. Until they would come to carry her home, wherever home would be._

The child looks at her, blue eyes that are muddied by pain. Sandy haired locks plastered to the toddler's forehead though no scar is to be seen. He is breathing shallowly and whimpering in obvious fear. He's the most fulfilling child she's ever known. They screamed hardest for him. She wonders if she would have done the same for her babe.

_A bloody lap and stillborn perfect little girl, who just wouldn't breathe – couldn't breathe. Drunken aurors and their shoddy defensive spellwork that didn't really harm her, except it took the most precious thing she would have ever known. And there is an abyss left behind inside of her. She had looked into it and __**saw**__ what could have been. She was lost then and no matter how magnificent the cause – she hasn't been completely found yet. This… this comes close though._

She pinches the child's arm, just to hear him shriek – just that tiny bit. And yes, she too would have fought for everything the child stands for – should their positions be reversed. She looks at the boy's parents. They were unaware now, would never rejoice in their perfect little being.

What goes around, comes around. Bellatrix has always known that. She abides by it.

Frank Longbottom lies moaning at the bottom of his ancestral family tree mural. There is something satisfyingly fitting about that. Alice Longbottom doesn't make a sound, yet keeps a piece of wizarding newspaper clutched in her grasp. She can just make out the lettering _**Boy-Who-Lived.**_There is something poetic as well as prophetic about that, Bellatrix knows.

She whispers secrets to the woman, tells her of fellow Death Eaters, tells her about Frank and the child he killed. Tells her ultimately that her fate wasn't wrought because she thrice defied the Dark Lord, no matter how much Bellatrix despised them for it. Her fate wasn't wrought because Bellatrix asked questions to which they couldn't find the right answer, even if they had wanted to wanted to – even if it was the reason Bellatrix had came for them. Their fate was wrought in a cold and unforgiving bathroom – Narcissa trying to stop the blood from flowing away – trying to keep it from killing her through sheer purity. A fate sealed when that little body didn't do what it was supposed to and yes, Bellatrix has been lost.

She draws back and truly smiles for the first time in a long time. She tucked a bloody strand of hair behind the woman's ear and kisses her pale cheek. Barty took the toddler from her, almost in a gentle way. She knows better though. He's the most delightful Hufflepuff she's ever encountered. Loyal to the cause to the very end, even if he doesn't quite know it yet. He's the most dangerous Hufflepuff she's ever known as well, which must be part of his appeal. They make for brilliant enemies and even greater comrades. Bellatrix also likes the misdirection about them, how others most always discount them – discount their luminescence.

Barty casually dropped the child in his crib, breaking her musings. She looks forward to see this Longbottom almost fully-grown. The feeling was most glorious. The anticipation revives her heart and she laughed out loud. Rabastan aparated away as Rodolphus cast the Dark Mark.

Somehow, the due penance will come around – perhaps sooner than she first anticipated She'll never regret it though. Never admit to mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. There is nothing to admit to. She has already suffered and this is her reward. And she knows that the boy and others like him will come for theirs, in time.

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it.


	4. Deliverance

Title: Deliverance

Series: Always pure but never worthy

Author: The Angelic Vampire

Rating: PG-13

Summary:_ They_ _have come and she is ready_

Word count: 615

Warnings: some mention of violence

Spoilers: hints for HP7

* * *

.

He's come for them, just like she has always known he would. He comes at night, where the destruction he wreaks is illuminated by the beauty of moonlight and werewolves tearing the guards to shreds. The Dementors swarm the auror guards on broomsticks and her laughter echoes through the night. The dark mark flares upon the canvas of stars, and yes, it is time.

A fellow Death Eater lands amidst the debris. She knows it is Lucius, from the way he doesn't grip the handle of his broomstick quite right to the arrogant strut that always – always – gives him away. She walks towards him and she knows he can't believe it is her, but then again, she doesn't quite know who she is anymore these days either.

She ignores Rodolphus and Rabastan being carried out of their cells. They fared better and worse than her in some ways. She reaches for Lucius' mask and he lets her pull it off. He can't hide his sorrow nor his disgust at her appearance or apparent lack of sanity. She knows how the grapevine sounds. It reverberates most loudly in Azkaban of all places. He can't quite speak, she knows why. All that she is, he should have been. She is broken now, in more ways than one. But she broke for her Lord and that makes all the difference. She will never be found wanting in that respect. No, she will always be valued higher than Lucius and the others. For once, an almost Huffelpuffian loyalty trumps the more conventional Slytherin self-serving ideology. Somehow, she has always knew it would.

Long sharpened nails trail down Lucius' cheek and leave behind red scratches. It does very little for her though, despite the lure of drawing that pure blood to the surface – reminding her of all the reasons it was worth it. She meets his gaze and despite the madness that lingers inside her – will always remain there – she knows that nothing can ever make it right again. Nothing can make it like before again. She wonders if Narcissa feels the same way. If maybe the hint of Seer blood in the Black lineage screams at her sister like it does at her. Because she **knows** that the sorrow and disgust are mere shields to bury Lucius' fear of things to come. He is terrified and she doesn't think him foolish for it. In fact, it might be the most insightful he's ever been.

Her hand curls around his chin and her eyes slip closed.

_Crystal balls and a veiled archway. Sirius and a hint of disbelief. Dragons breathing fire, giants roaring and werewolves howling. Narcissa screaming. Unbreakable vows lingering in the afterwake of death, once thought impossible. Something belonging to Death itself, the trinity, Grindelwald, Dumbledore, their dragon and sheer blinding lighting - and everyone in between. Pain, fear and Azkaban. Lucius' haunted gaze. Dementors feeding and mass destruction. A rainbow of colours turning black – Black blood – Andromeda on her knees sobbing. The ministry, deceit and confusion. A grim on the battlefield. __Here be dragons!_

She gasps and her eyes shoot open. He is right to be afraid of what will come to pass. Lucius looks pale. She smiles, her teeth bared. She is ready to serve her Lord and Lucius will either bow or die. The time for patience has come and gone, now is the moment of supremacy. The scent of blood, conviction and power spreads amongst the cold stone floors and debris left behind. Their sheer existence sear her skin, veins and mind - and she knows the following to be true.

They have come and she is ready. Lady Destiny and her Lord await.

* * *

.

A/N: Hope you liked it.

R&R please

II

II

II

\/

Go


	5. Black Blood

Title: Black Blood

Series: Always Pure But Never Worthy

Author: The Angelic Vampire

Summary: _Sirius fell._

Spoilers: Not really, except for OotP.

Disclaimer: I am not nor will I ever be J.K. Rowling. So this isn't mine.

Warnings: Canon Character Death

Word count: 485.

* * *

Sirius fell.

He fell. He was merely stunned, nothing more. She could have cast any number of painful spells – Morgana knows she has enough of _those_ in her arsenal. The fact that she didn't, doesn't make her cousin any less dead nonetheless. The ever present tangent of hate and love – old blood between them – had been so strong though and she did something she never though she would. She had taken Black blood and stained her hands – her soul – with it. Of all the things she's done, this lingers the longest – the most. And part of her wonders if it was worth it. If it was worth it for Sirius. She remembers him from _before_.

_A quick grin and pain in his gaze, so haunting that it made you gasp for breathe when it caught you unaware. Power thrumming underneath his skin, when her palm met his. Fighting and screaming in anger, but Lord such life in the lot of them. And they were glorious together – even when belief, convictions and oaths divided them_.

They were the same deep down inside. A hatred so fierce it rattled the very foundations of their society. Power, a blood bond and knowledge so intimidating, they were feared – rightly so. They were Blacks after all and nothing could change that, not ever Sirius' most desperate attempts to prove himself different. She knows the darkness that lingered in him. She feels something akin it in her every heartbeat, in her every breath. Spells and potions, curses and hexes, grimoires and family secrets. From the eldest strain of the line – heir to their lineage – he was never anything but the sum of all the cunning that was Black. And he suffered for his endeavours to delude himself.

_Laboured breaths and Narcissa is screaming. Bellatrix is numb and she feels no will to live. Cold tiles and house elves popping in with clean towels that turn a shade between crimson and black. Cissa did something though, called someone – called on him. _

_A strong voice casts spells that make her feel less light-headed. Sirius keeps snapping at Narcissa as they try to levitate her. She reaches out wildly, but the baby won't respond. Sirius grasps her flaying hand as she sobs for her child. She's never been more broken. Blue haunted eyes and he squeezes her hand once before everything turns black. He isn't there when she wakes to Narcissa's red eyes and blessed silence._

_The baby girl is gone – buried in the Black ancestral crypt. _

_Despite her then visible Dark Mark, Sirius sends no aurors to her doorstep. Unlike Narcissa who doesn't know their cousin quite as well as Bellatrix does, she isn't surprised – nor is she when the following occurs. No condolences come. A brown owl merely delivers a short list of names. _

_**Steven McKay, Evan Joyce, Frank Longbottom.**_

They were the same. Blood called to blood.

And Sirius merely fell.

* * *

A/N: Hope you liked it. R&R please, thanks. 


End file.
